


for intentions they both traced carefully

by kanjogirl



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:10:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanjogirl/pseuds/kanjogirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drifting is intimate and riveting, so sparring is the next best thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for intentions they both traced carefully

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at Pacific Rim King Meme. Also, set a month or two after the movie’s plot. Raleigh's PoV

_One, two, three, four…one, two, three, four…one, two, three, fou—_  
  
  
Mako’s eyes cut to his face from across the room and he suddenly holds his breath. His feet feel hot against the cold, blue mat as he stills for a moment. Her smaller feet step onto the mat now, with more grace he’s beginning to understand. The familiar light brown bamboo stick in her hand is gripped in a way he recognizes. Her stride is a little wider when she comes one step closer and his might be a bit shorter than normal.   
  
  
Raleigh had known this would happen. The drift and paddle compatibility he had shared with one other person before something simply clicked with Mako. Scratch that—it was more than just ‘simply’. Because while it seemed to be all there, the makings of Drift Partners, they had fought to be in that position. And they held it between them. He knew the moment they synced minds that they would take on similar habits, pick up on each other’s tendencies, aware or not.   
  
  
Raleigh doesn’t quite remember it being like this, however. And, yeah, okay he likes it. He won’t deny it. One would have to be comfortable if placed in a situation like that. But this time it’s a complete stranger who had peered into his soul, someone who hadn’t seen him as a child, hadn’t laughed and played with him, didn’t know how he reacted to getting scars in the past. And now she does. And he knows about her too.   
  
  
 _One, two, three, four…one, two, three, four…one, two, thre—_  
  
  
There’s something that passes between them as he chants the count in his head. He folds his lips in for a moment as there’s the slight tilt of her head. She knows that count now too, he knows this. And Raleigh also happens to know it almost drove her nuts because she has a similar tactic but it’s in Japanese and she counts to three instead.   
  
  
There’s a fleeting smirk across her lips before she takes the first swing and he appreciates the fact he hadn’t blinked because he would have missed it. A warrior’s cry bursts from her mouth and he takes a quick inhale before stepping forward to meet her blow, their bamboo sticks clashing with the sound. It jars them both, he can tell—in the thrilling sort of way that has him twisting around for another swing and has her bending back only to throw her weapon up to meet his again.   
  
  
 _One, two—_  
  
  
Her eyes sweep over him with something glinting in her eye, a spark of gleeful knowledge because she simply  _knows_. For the first time, Raleigh’s not entirely sure why that sends a charge through him. He goes in for another hit, a grunt escapes his tight lips before she kneels, swooping underneath him and he’s suddenly on his right side. She had done it on purpose—his left shoulder still aches with that dull pain and falling on it would make it hurt for weeks. As he raises his stick to defend himself, she already has hers pointed at his throat.   
  
  
He smirks, despite himself. He gets up by himself and he notes she had stood back to let him. Raleigh has a thing about being helped up. It’s then he wonders what he’s doing to comply with her own actions. Is he catching himself? Does she catch herself? For a moment, he takes her in—his eyes don’t linger on her breasts long, she doesn’t like that. Maybe he is conforming to her too. And he somewhat expected it but, god, this is a level he kinda-sorta loves.   
  
  
"One-zero."  
  
  
"Yeah," he returns, breathless for some reason and he clears his throat.  
  
  
 _One, two, three, four…one, two, three, four…one—_

She swings and he meets her, stepping with his left foot this time and going in deeper. They’re too close and it throws her off. Closeness can do that to her, he knows. He uses it to his advantage as she stumbles back with a fault he knows she’ll go over in her head again and again later. The end of his bamboo stick is now directed at her forehead; she hadn’t stepped back far enough.   
  
  
Mako licks her lips and he swallows.   
  
  
 _One, two, three, four…_  
  
  
"One-one," Raleigh can hardly bite out before she’s coming at him.   
  
  
The room is filled with grunts and cries as they seem to unleash everything this time. Her precision and his force collide and there’s a sense of complete power between them that they both crave oh so much. He knows she loves this part, when it’s just them and no boundaries because for someone with so much reserve and tact, she wishes for no walls and to be freed. And he’s never wanted to hold her back with that, never wanted to get in the way of any chance she can simply let go. Like now.  
  
  
It’s not the first time he’s thought about how beautiful she looks. She knows he’s thought it on many occasions—just like he knows she appreciates he’s kept his body in pretty good shape (he’s held his tongue, he knows better than to say anything, Yancy said not to get cocky and he’s taken those words to heart for life). But in these small moments, when her hair sways and she grits her teeth, eyes flashing dangerously—fuck, he loves it. Maybe too much.  
  
  
Somehow she gets him on his back again, the sneaky one she can be, but he raises his stick to meet hers this time. She presses harder, her right knee on the mat as she leans forward, as if she could over power him. He thinks, briefly, with some humor that he’s benched with weights heavier than she is. And with some luck, he manages to roll them over.   
  
  
They both take a breath together.  
  
  
(Together. Like it should be. He likes that. She does too.)  
  
  
Suddenly, like gravity, something falls over them, keeps them there and he realizes that maybe whatever it is has been hovering over them since they stepped foot in the room. He swallows again, only somewhat aware she had lost her weapon in the switch and his is still in his hand, pinned to the floor under his palm next to the right side of her head.   
  
  
They keep their eyes on each other. They both prefer that, something the Drift left an impression on. He knows they had matched but the moment their minds molded together, Raleigh was faced with the startling realization that maybe there was someone else out there who could get him more than anyone else, without the help of machines or aliens. And that person is below him right now, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths that rival his own.   
  
  
Raleigh’s quite mindful of the fact that maybe he’s getting more excited than he should. And while normally he wouldn’t be ashamed, he knows her reaction would more in likely be either a small blush and retreat or a reprimand (which he’s more inclined to because at least she’d still be in the room with him).   
  
  
 _One, two, three, Mako…one, two, three, four…one, Mako, three, four…_  
  
  
He thinks that he should probably get off of her because that’s the right thing he’s been conditioned to do. Yeah, that should be right. But here’s the deal: he’s caught in this web of Mako Mori and he’s not exactly sure how to extract himself without stirring her from this either. Because, wow, the way she’s looking at him—

A sudden suggestive whistle makes them both jump and her head comes up faster than his (she’s always been faster than him; great for the battlefield, he has to admit) and their foreheads collide. He groans, falling onto his side and covering his face. Whether it’s from an abrupt wave of embarrassment or pain, he’s not even sure himself.   
  
  
Raleigh hears a skittering and opens his eyes and lowers his hands to see Mako already rushing over to where her shoes are. He glances around the room to spy their audience, several aircrew members and the technicians running the board. He spies Choi and Herc there at the doorway, arms crossed and a rather annoying smirk on their features.   
  
  
He gets up and decides making eye contact with anyone would only further the laughter and jokes. Raleigh grabs his shoes and sweater with a huff. He glances back up to see Mako brushing past him, a good meter between them. Already, Raleigh knows what that means.  _Distance_.   
  
  
"Mako…—"  
  
  
Raleigh’s not sure what to say and when she turns around slowly, he feels himself still again. She blinks, slowly but her gaze is on him and he feels so small.   
  
  
And then she’s gone.   
  
  
He swallows and his shoulders slump a little. Herc comes onto the mat with him, slapping a hand over his left shoulder (he winces slightly but that’s okay—only one other person knows better and she just left the room).   
  
  
"Don’t get too frisky, son," Herc jokes because they both know Raleigh won’t exactly tread in that territory. "When I said you guys should spar just to make up for not getting to Drift, I didn’t mean for you to give room for foreplay."  
  
  
Raleigh gives him an exasperated look and tries very hard not to comment on that. Because, yeah, he wants to leave as soon as possible. His briefs won’t exactly save him from the embarrassment of the arousal that still lingers and sweats are the worst for this situation.   
  
  
Herc leaves and so does the crowd that had accumulated over time. He swears in his head. Drifting is intimate but sparing comes close to it—and he had been far too lost to be aware of prying eyes. And from the look Mako had given him, he knows for a fact they had shared a world together that just made up a population of two.

Leaving to his room, he fumbles with the lock before glancing to the door opposite of his. His eyes downcast, he pushes into his room and shuts the metal door. With a huge sigh, he runs a hand through his hair, stopping before the nightstand to lean forward, left hand supporting his weight. He drops his things on the floor, tension lining his muscles as he wills the erection away. He shifts his weight to the other side and breathes out.   
  
  
He thinks about Mako’s cutting glances, her swift movements. He thinks of her hot breath against his mouth, mingling with his own. He thinks of the fluid movements she makes when they really get into the sparring, how he tries adapting and adopting those moves as his own without even meaning to. He thinks of her own mimicking, the wide strides and jumps she executes so well, just like his own.   
  
  
 _One, two, three, four…one, two, three, four…_  
  
  
He thinks of her own attraction towards him. He thinks of the fantasies she’s dared graze upon, the situations she’s found appropriate and fitting. He thinks of the way her gaze lingers on his face, tracing the lines because, for some reason, she thinks he’ll be gone soon and memory is all she has. He thinks of how good it felt to press his body against hers, how comfortable it is because it’s like they know each other’s body so well now without the need to even touch. (Oh, god, he wants to touch.)  
  
  
Raleigh releases a shuddered breath and his hands are inside his sweat pants. His fingers wrap around his hardness, bending a bit more as he bites down a groan. He strokes, thoughts of her face construed in all sorts of expressions of ecstasy run through his mind. He hates how he hasn’t had that pleasure. He sees the very few men she’s been with, the even fewer orgasms she’s experienced. Her hitched breath, the way her body tenses, her fingers grasping whatever she can to get a bearing.   
  
  
He shivers, picking up the pace. He’s completely bent over now, head resting on the nightstand’s surface as he closes his eyes tightly with the thought of her. He remembers the way her chest had risen to meet his as she breathed deeply, how her lips parted ever so slightly and how he;s thought about the feel of them against his own.   
  
  
 _Mako, Mako, Mako, Mako…Mako, Mako, Mako, Mako…Mako, Mako, Mako…_  
  
  
And when he comes, Raleigh swallows his voice because he knows it’s her name he’d moan. He stays there, withdrawing his hand and leaves his limp by his side as it seems like it’s a fight for air.   
  
  
Oh, fuck, maybe it’s a good thing they won’t ever get to Drift again because he can only imagine the look he’d get from her with this new memory to add with the rest. But then again… Raleigh thinks going down that sort of thought process might not end up well.

After he washes up and heads back out, having in mind to get something to eat, he ends up at the Shatterdome. The familiar lift where he and Mako had shared lunches together before is still there, facing where their Jaeger would be. (He likes calling it theirs because a lot of things aretheirs now. Their Jaeger, their mission, their care, their lives.)  
  
  
Raleigh can’t completely explain why he isn’t surprised she’s sitting there, tearing a piece off her bread in that way he remembers Marshall doing. Except he’s not completely sure about the part where she takes it in her mouth, her tongue darting out to lick her lips in a way that pools some warmth in his stomach. He blinks it away desperately.   
  
  
As he eases down beside her at a respectable distance, she gives him a wary look before glancing away with a small sigh. He keeps his gaze on her until she turns back to him.   
  
  
"What?"  
  
  
Raleigh smiles and shakes his head. “Nothing.”  
  
  
Except they both know it’s something and they’re both aware of what it is. There’s a tug of her lips and he knows that’s the Mako Sign of Disapproval so his eyes are now on his food.   
  
  
 _One, two, three, four…one, two, three, four…_  
  
  
"Tomorrow," Mako says suddenly, confidently. He turns to her but her eyes are on the empty space of where their Jaeger had been. "We’ll spar tomorrow."  
  
  
It doesn’t exactly sound like an order to him, though he knows to anyone else it would. It’s more like a confirmation because they really don’t have to say anything at all. They would have found each other on the mat anyway because they miss Drifting and sparring is the next best thing. He knows she likes it and she knows he likes it. It’s not that hard to figure out a solution.   
  
  
"Okay."  
  
  
This time, she smiles and he’s counting again.

**Author's Note:**

> You cannot tell me Raleigh Becket has never masturbating to the greatness of Mako Mori. (I think it says something about me when this is the first fic I've written for the Pacific Rim fandom...)


End file.
